


Spring of Our Parting

by hereswith



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereswith/pseuds/hereswith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leaving and returning, parting and reuniting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring of Our Parting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Porn Battle XI and the prompts "stay" and "symmetry".

Does he ( _no_ ) ask her to stay, the hard line of his jaw turned away, but she is still bruised from his kisses, in places tender and secret, and he still bears the marks she gave, she knows the pattern of them on his back, hidden under linen fabric. They will fade, these keepsakes, long before the seasons for growing and harvest pass ( _they always do_ ), and nothing more of Hades, the man or the realm, will be allowed her where she must go.

Does she ( _no_ ) touch him, their fingers twined like weft and warp, her head on his shoulder, breaths in broken symmetry, but that is mere memory, it will not happen now, at this moment of parting ( _her exile_ ). Not with spring coming, inevitable and unstoppable, out of the barren boughs, out of the fertile loam, and her mother's arms opened wide, so wide.

"I," she says and, "You," he says, because she is the centre, the beginning and end, the truth ( _how it happened_ ) not as simple as others would have it. She will leave by ancient ways, and by crooked paths return, when winter approaches, the mountain slopes flecked white with snow, the sandals on her feet not winged but they will serve, carry her to where she must go ( _would run_ ).

He will call her queen, then, in the dim of their chamber ( _on his knees_ ), and she will name him "husband", and "Hades", her mouth pressed to his temple, her sandals, her chiton lost and never once missed. She will undress him, there, and he will pluck the sweet flowers from her hair, and the silk that binds it, push his hands through it and pull her down. His beard will tickle, bristle and rasp against her skin and she will be steeped in summer, sick of sun, taking his weight on her like the first time ( _by her will_ ), her arms opened wide, so wide.


End file.
